Run
by mydickisthealpha
Summary: Draco Malfoy had always been one of Voldemort's favorites, that is, until he finally gains the courage to leave the Dark. Being hitlisted by the Dark Lord, Draco obtains the help of Albus, only to be put where he'd never want to be: with Harry. Drarry
1. The Great Escape

**.:R**_un_**:.**

**by**: **S**_tupefiedNarutard_

_**NOTES**_: 'Ello, everyone! (My name's Bruuuce) (jk, Nemo reference) (sharkbait ooh bop...a... do..o...) I'm in a bit of a Harry Potter rut. However, I've altered some of the facts in Harry Potter to fit purposes of the story, such as timing of certain events (this will still be in 1997, however). I will try to keep them as in-character as possible... but this_ is_ fanfiction after all. This starts off at the end of the 6th year of Hogwarts, which is the end of April instead of May, but Dumbledore is alive because I need him for the plot. Voldemort was unable to get his plan in motion because Draco left Hogwarts in the mid-beginning of the year and went into hiding.

_**Summary**_**:** Draco Malfoy had always been one of Voldemort's favorites, that is, until he finally gains the courage to leave the Dark. Being hitlisted by the Dark Lord, Draco obtains the help of Albus, only to be put where he'd never want to be: with Harry.

[Drarry]

* * *

><p>To say that Draco Malfoy didn't know what would happen would be a complete and utter lie.<p>

No, Draco was not surprised by the matter at all. After all the Cruciatus curses he'd been through, all the lies he had to tell, Draco was in no way, shape, or form taken aback by the news that the Dark Lord wanted him dead. He had been foolish, listening to his father's pure-blood nonsense and his own false sense of ambition, to join the Dark Crusade at such a young age. He had known the Dark Lord wouldn't be exactly as his father had made him out to be. But Draco hadn't been at all impressed by what Voldemort really was. After he realized what he'd been listening to all of his life, a big ball of nonsense, he'd known that he wouldn't last as a Death Eater, when they finally decided to Mark him. Of course, Draco only stayed with the conviction that he was doing all this for his family.

Sure, Draco loved his family very much, but to say he completely got along with them would also be a lie.

Yes, Draco had been handed the dirtiest of all plates from birth, he realized, and had gotten over that fact long ago and accepted that his family would never change. Lucius was a pompous, cowardly excuse for a father, while Narcissa was the most dramatic creature he had ever seen, though he was very close to her. And that made Draco very tired. He was so tired... Tired of wearing his mask of prudish indifference, feeling completely drained of all emotion. Could he not just give up someone else's dreams to claim his own for once?

Yes, these past two years had changed him greatly. No longer was he a sniveling, rude little boy following every word his father uttered, whether in fear or admiration, neither mattered anymore. He'd been tortured enough and had seen and felt enough death lingering around him that he realized that some things didn't matter... like being pure-blooded, or having a perfect family. He just wanted to get out of the madness his life had become. Once he had learned that they planned to use him to kill Dumbledore, Draco had had enough.

The blonde-silver haired male pulled on his dark robes, wrapping his green and silver scarf-tie around his neck. Even after leaving Hogwarts to avoid Voldemort in his plans, he'd still kept his Slytherin colors. In fact, half of his closet was green, silver, and black. To tell anyone he was originally supposed to be Gryffindor would be hilarious, because he so went with Slytherin. Damn hat was as batty as Dumbledore.

Speaking of the devil, that's who Draco was trying to see today. Well, not trying. He _was_ going to see the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The blonde was currently hidden away from everyone since he had found out about his bounty. He had immediately busied himself with finding a way to get to Dumbledore. He feared it was the only person who could help him with his situation. Of course the old fool would accept him back. He was Albus, for Chrissakes. Draco rolled his eyes at the thought. Self-righteous old bastard.

The old man had immediately replied to his owl (such a slow way of communicating!) and had replied that it would be a pleasure to meet with him. He had said some nonsense about how evil was never the way to go in the first place and he was glad Draco had come to his senses. Of course, Draco had scoffed and snorted, quickly burning the letter and excusing the owl back to Hogsmeade.

Draco was supposed to use a portkey designed specifically by Dumbledore so that Draco wouldn't have to use any magic Voldemort or the other Death Eater's could actually trace. The portkey was located in a small muggle restaurant, in a cosy little bathroom, in the middle mirror. He wondered if any muggles would wonder how he had managed to go to the bathroom and leave without coming out of the bathroom. They would probably just think they had missed him. The diner was not too far from his hiding spot, conveniently, so he didn't have to use a taxi or walk very far... not that he had any muggle money. He only bought food from the best wizarding food stores around... or... at least he used to.

The teen's silver eyes fell to his clock and it's incessant ticking. That was the only sound he could hear in this lonely, dank place. The room he was in was overused and underpaid. He was currently in a small hotel bedroom, the only thing he used apparition for after he'd found out about his death warrant. He had been here for about a week, living off of complimentary breakfast and breakfast leftovers. He had become friends with one of the maids here, her news of the outside world the only thing he could get any news from, since the t.v. was absolutely bonkers. He could vaguely tell which news was from the wizarding community and which was from the muggle world, since some of the tabloids she talked about included weird happenings and major events. He heard about a collapsing bridge that he remembered the Death Eater's were supposed to knock down that week.

A knock at the door brought Draco back to his senses. He frowned. Was it time for house cleaning already? He cautiously lifted himself from his sitting position on the bed, pulling his wand out, a spell at his lips. Moving as quietly as possible, he made his way to the door to look through the peep-hole.

'_Shit. Sending them already?_' Draco thought to himself, seeing a Death Eater sitting at his door, listening intently. Apparently his apparition hadn't gone unnoticed. They just needed to make sure it was him... What to do...

He couldn't very well apparate to Albus's office... his magical signature would be traced and they would know. And he couldn't alert the Death Eater to the location of the portkey because they could still use it. He pondered all this for a moment, until another, harsher knock interrupted his thoughts. Heart pounding, he glanced at the window. He wasn't that far up and he could probably lose this guy if he kept in the eye of the public. He knew Voldemort didn't want the muggle world to know of his presence yet-he wasn't strong enough. Draco silently nodded to himself and took a breath.

_'I better not break my leg trying this. Let's hope being a Malfoy has trained me enough for this run.'_ Draco lunged, flipping quickly and using the velocity of his flip to kick off of the floor, sending him busting through the fragile glass of the dirty window. Silken hair flying all around him, he landed on his feet, dropping to one knee before taking off again. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the Death Eater sticking his head out to see what had happened. They locked eyes momentarily, the Death Eater scowling in anger. The man turned quickly from the window, only to come out of the entrance of the hotel at the bottom.

Draco was sprinting by now, grabbing the attention of most everyone around him. "Where's the fire?" someone had commented, laughing, until he was knocked unceremoniously to the ground by a less than friendly man who was also running.

_'Right, left, or straight?'_ Draco asked himself as he sped on down the sidewalk. Glancing around, he figured that to the right there were more people and was closer to the diner... so he could get away easier. Turning sharply, he flung himself right, into a large crowd of people. He smiled to himself as he watched the Death Eater pause at the corner, confused look on his face. The man went straight as Draco was disappearing down the other street. 'Now. Where the hell is this diner?'

Draco hadn't slowed any as he searched through the small diners. Well, damn it, they were all cozy! And all of them said diner! Couldn't the old man have been more descriptive? Draco wondered if perhaps Albus had finally turned evil and was playing a cruel joke on him. It seemed right.

'Waffle Diner, Mickey's Diner, Lemon Drop Diner, Fine Diner-' Draco almost growled as he glanced at the Lemon Drop Diner. What were the odds?

"Miss me, little Draco?" A deep voice startled Draco and the blonde swung his fist instinctively behind him, knocking the owner of the voice to his back. The Death Eater from before. The man cursed as he held his bleeding nose. Taking the temporary opening, Draco took off again, flying into the Lemon Drop Diner, hoping the Death Eater had been too distracted to see his entrance. He pushed the bathroom door open and touched the middle mirror, disappearing instantly.

"Well, that man looked as if he really had to go," a worker in the diner commented to her customer as she poured him coffee.

"It seems so," they laughed together, both wondering a few hours later where the strange young man with the blonde hair had gone and why he never came back from the bathroom.

Draco landed harshly on a cold, hard floor. He was out of breath and his hair was all over the place. He sat up, trying to catch his breath.

Clutching his side, Draco pushed himself up, calves and thighs aching a bit from his sprinting. He _had_ been cooped up in a dingy little hotel room for quite some time. He wasn't ready for the sudden increase in physical activity and his screaming muscles were testifying to that theory. The blonde massaged his muscles a bit before straightening, smoothing his appearance slightly before he started walking.

Suddenly, Draco was bombarded with a heavy feeling of nostalgia. The dark hallways, lit by a warming light, were so familiar and so safe feeling Draco felt like he could cry. But he wouldn't, of course. He just kept walking, face impassive as he glanced around, watching shadows dance on the strong, stone wall. He vaguely recognized what part of the castle he was in. It was close to Dumbledore's office, thankfully, but why the Headmaster hadn't just put him directly into the over packed room was beyond him.

The young wizard remembered stalking the halls with Crabbe and Goyle, as if he'd owned the place, looking for trouble... especially for Saint Potter and his gaggle of "courageous" Gryffindors. Recalling the feeling of superiority made Draco feel a little sick. He wished that perhaps he'd be able to take it back, all the insults, all his jinxes. What if he_ had _been sorted into Gryffindor? Would he be friends with Potter and his friends? Would his father have even let him continue to stay in Hogwarts? After all that Draco had endured in such a short period of time, the blonde wondered at how different his thinking had become. He smothered those thoughts though, walking cautiously through the halls.

Draco heard a group of giggling girls and pressed himself into a small dip in the wall, covered by darkness. He watched them with narrowed eyes as they passed, recognized their attire as Ravenclaw, and relaxed his shoulders. He didn't want to run into any Slytherins. They'd recognize him immediately and most all of them had Death Eaters in their families or extended families. Sighing almost silently, Draco waited until he heard them no more and slipped back out into the hall. Soon he was seeing the curve of the castle that lead to Dumbledore's office.

"Lemon Tart," Draco muttered and followed the staircase up to the Headmaster's office.

"Aaah," Albus began, but Draco had been expecting that, "Draco. Come right in. I've been awaiting you. Lemon drop?" Draco stared at the object for a moment, contemplating on whether to take one or not. He wondered, for just a brief second, if anyone actually ever accepted one. He shook his blonde head and reaffirmed his answer by stating, 'No.'

"Word gets around very fast, Mr. Malfoy, especially where Tom Riddle is involved. That he wants you dead is shocking- you're too good of an asset to let go," Albus said with his back turned, pouring some tea into two cups that had appeared suddenly. "But what," the old wizard inquired softly, "would bring you to me, Draco?"

"You should know that as well as I, Albus, if you are as all-knowing as they say you are."

"I thought you too proud a young man to beg for protection."

"I'm not begging. I'm asking. From a man who used to shelter me as a father would in these very halls," Draco pegged in at the end, still remembering some of the talks the two had had.

"I see," the old bat turned to gaze at Draco with his ever mirthful, twinkling eyes. He hovered the dainty tea cups so that one was placed on his desk, the other slipping into Draco's waiting hands. "Well, then, you came to the right place. You were such an impressionable child when you were younger, Draco. Your father didn't offer you much protection, did he?"

With that comment, Draco stiffened, face turning an angry shade of purple. "Do not talk of that man in my presence," was his immediate reply, fury burning towards Albus, for talking about the man, and anger at his father, for existing. "And do not act as if you knew before I showed you. Or should I say... before you forcefully took away what's mine?"

"Very well, Draco, I'll give you that. I had my suspicions, though, my dear boy. That's why I took what is still yours. It did help you in the long run, now, didn't it?"

"You're playing with fire here, old man, I suggest you to hold your tongue."

Albus looked rather amused and turned away, coming to sit at his chair behind his large desk. "You've come at exactly the right time. You see, I have another person eligible for protection as well. Two together is better than one in hiding."

"I don't need any-"

"He's a rather good person, he is. Charming, smart, courageous-"

"Sounds like a Gryffindor," Draco interrupted, teacup poised in mid-air as he was about to take a sip.

"Ahhh, I think you know him as well. It would be the very last person Tom Riddle would ever think you to be with."

Draco pondered this for a moment, tossing and turning all of the people in Gryffindor before it smacked him right in the face. He slammed his teacup down, not caring if he'd broken it or not.

"Hell no." Draco stated, face a dead-pan expression. Dumbledore had finally gone bonkers. _Bloody wanker._

"Come now, Draco, you know that Harry Potter is not that bad a person," Dumbledore looked as if he might laugh as he said this, taking a sip of his hot tea. Some of the portraits in his office were giggling merrily at the Malfoy's expense. "Plus, I don't think I'd like to put him back at the Dursleys. They are rather... abusive. His protection wards will be breaking soon, as well."

Draco scowled at the realization. Harry Potter... abused? He would have figured the boy to be completely pampered as he had always been lead to believe he was. Perhaps it was just Draco's jealousy... Still, a child should never be abused... especially by parents. Draco stood quickly.

"Why on Earth would you put me in a 10-mile radius of Harry Potter? You are senile and I'm seriously doubting my own intelligence for coming here to you in the first place. Perhaps if I just hide with Professor Snap-"

"Who is still considered a Death Eater? If any of the others found out, my only spy would be ruined."

Draco sighed heavily, plopping back down on the entirely-too-comfortable chair. Dumbledore softened at the sight. It looked like old times. Draco in his eternally dark robes, silver eyes looking towards Fawkes, petulant look on his face. He had seen it so many times before.

"I would have liked to be in a place where I could monitor my mother. She is very important to me," Draco said softly, massaging the outer lids of his closed eyes with one hand. His scarf-tie was starting to make him feel hot, so he pulled at it in annoyance.

"Professor Snape will make sure to keep an eye on Narcissa. He's already talked to me about the very subject," Albus smiled knowingly and Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Albus had this figured out, like always, hadn't he? Sighing again, he stared into his former teacher's eyes.

"Very well, _Professor_, but if he so much as sneezes on me, I'm going to hex1 him until he can't stand."

"Marvelous!"

* * *

><p>Harry quickly made his way through the halls filled with buzzing students. While most of them were oblivious to how much danger hid behind the rolling hills of Scotland, Harry was well aware that he'd soon be facing an enemy that had made his whole life a living hell. Sure, he'd gotten Hermione and Ron in all this mess, and he'd gotten to meet so many great people, Lupin, Tonks, the Weasleys... and Sirius. Just thinking about Sirius made Harry want to stop breathing. He'd only known him for a small amount of time, but his love for his late godfather was something that he thought he might've felt for James, had the man lived to be his father.<p>

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the brunette made his way to the familiar office that he'd seen so many times in his stay here at Hogwarts. In the back of his mind, Harry was well aware that he would never be coming back to finish his educate at this place he'd learn to call his real home. Here, even though faced with many dangers, he'd felt safest. He had people he loved here, teachers, his best friends... He had a connection to his deceased loved-ones here and his adventures, however scary, were something he would cherish because at least, in those dangerous times, he was surrounded by complete love.

"Lemon Tart," Harry waited for the staircase to appear and made his way to Dumbledore's office, thoughts on his life here at Hogwarts.

"There you are, my boy, Harry," Dumbledore welcomed softly, sitting behind his large desk, a cup of tea in his hands. Fawkes squawked in recognition and Harry reached out with a tentative finger to brush his flaming red-and-orange feathered head. The phoenix relished the attention and Harry grinned, then took his usual seat in front of the old Headmaster. He looked out from behind his spectacles at the long bearded man, waiting for his inevitable speech about Harry's situation.

"I heard you did exceptionally on all of your exams. Well done, Harry," Dumbledore commented, conjuring up a small cup of tea for Harry, who mumbled a small thanks and blew at the hot liquid before taking a sip. Dumbledore stared at Fawkes for a moment, while Harry sipped a little, then looked at the young man. Harry placed his small cup on the small table beside him, and folded his hands to sit in his lap.

"Oh, well, I suppose we should just encapsulate the unimportant to the important stuff, as usual," blue eyes twinkled a bit as he said that, and Harry had the decency to blush a bit, embarrassed that Dumbledore thought him impatient. "You're here, of course, to discuss your personal safety options for this summer. You are well aware that your safety blanket, the Dursley's house, will lose their safety charms on your upcoming birthday, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry affirmed, his leg starting to bounce a little, as he swam in his undeniable anxiety. Dumbledore looked at the leg and looked away, disliking that Harry had to feel even more troubled.

"I know that you usually go to the Dursleys' at the end of the school year. I know... that they haven't treated you very well. For that, I am very sorry," the Headmaster looked into Harry's emerald eyes as he apologized, and Harry looked away, mumbling something like, 'It's not your fault they're horrible.' Dumbledore smiled at Harry's forgiveness, so easy to get from the teen boy in front of him. He had Lily's easy-natured love. "I think that it would be wise to send you elsewhere for the summer until the barrier is broken. When that happens, Voldemort, who will be expecting you at your house, will be confused long enough for you to use a portkey to your new, safe location. No one will know of your location but me and two other people that I trust undoubtedly."

Harry was speechless, obviously believing that he'd have to spend a miserable summer at the Dursleys' once more. He thought about the safety of it all and felt comforted by the fact that he would be in a place that only Dumbledore knew about. None of his friends and relations would be in danger if they didn't know where he was. He wondered if he'd be alone and where Dumbledore would put him.

"Where will I be going, sir? Will I be staying with anyone?" Harry inquired, and Dumbledore smiled a bit, conjuring a few sweet biscuits that Harry refused. Dumbledore took a small bite of his sugary treat and stood, opening a tiny cabinet and pulling out what looked like a backpack of some sort. The brunette looked at it curiously as Dumbledore made his way to where Harry sat, placing himself in the seat next to Harry.

"Here, you will need this on your journey. Whatever I place in here will reach you no matter where you are. Just reach in and grab what I place in there. You will receive mail and money this way, Harry," Dumbledore explained and Harry took the brown rucksack into his hands and looked at Dumbledore, in confusion.

"Will I be alone, sir?" Harry asked, and for some reason, being alone filled him with more dread than anything ever had. He didn't want to be alone. He never did. Dumbledore seemed to notice his fear and shook his head briefly.

"No, my dear boy, you won't be alone. But the person I am placing you with is someone that you might not want to be with."

"How do you mean, Professor?"

"He hasn't be the friendliest towards you and perhaps you won't trust my judgment when I place you with him, but I implore you to look past pretense and accept that when I say you can trust him as well, you can." Dumbledore looked very grave and Harry nodded slowly.

"You will be going to America," Dumbledore paused for Harry's small gasp, "with Draco Malfoy."

Harry stood, his brown rucksack falling from his lap. "I'm sorry, sir, but Draco Malfoy? _Malfoy?_ His father tried to killed me and is a Death Eater. I know you asked me to trust you, but-"

"Then do trust me when I say that he is done with being on Voldemort's side. There is much about Master Draco that you don't know, just as there is plenty of information Draco does not know about you. I'm afraid I must insist that you go with him to America. There you will be able to hide without Voldemort's knowledge and our plan to get you to safety with as little cost as possible will work."

Harry looked as if he might start arguing again, but he closed his mouth, his emerald eyes a bit stormy. "Yes, sir," he finally answered and Dumbledore nodded.

"Pack your things tonight, then, and say your goodbyes to your friends, Harry. You will leave, bright and early, tomorrow morning."

* * *

><p>(1) I'm going to sex him until he can't stand. Lolol, I'm a pervert. That's all I could think of after I wrote that sentence.<p>

ABAHAAHHAHAHA.

That's all for now...

What do you think so far? Please let me know, lovelies!


	2. Meaningless

**.:R**_un_**:.**

**by**: **S**_tupefiedNarutard_

_**NOTES**_: I've altered some of the facts in Harry Potter to fit purposes of the story, such as timing of certain events (this will still be in 1997, however) (this particular chapter is may 1st, 1997). I will try to keep them as in-character as possible... but this_ is_ fanfiction after all. This starts off at the end of the 6th year of Hogwarts, which is the end of April instead of May, but Dumbledore is alive because I need him for the plot. Voldemort was unable to get his plan in motion because Draco left Hogwarts in the mid-beginning of the year and went into hiding.

Jonathan is an OC character that only appears for a short time in this chapter and maybe a few others, he's an... "acquaintance" of Dumbledore's. I think he'll be the only OC that I have this story... yeah, that seems to be accurate. Lyrics and Chapter Title came from the song 'Meaningless' by Sixpence None the Richer

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or characters affiliated, but I am not making profit from writing this.

_**Summary**_**:** Draco Malfoy had always been one of Voldemort's favorites, that is, until he finally gains the courage to leave the Dark. Being hitlisted by the Dark Lord, Draco obtains the help of Albus, only to be put where he'd never want to be: with Harry.

[Drarry]

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong> h a p t e r **T** w o:

†Meaningless†

‡

"It's all meaningless

All my life and labor is foolish"

* * *

><p>Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room for what he expected was the last time. He was waiting for Ron and Hermione to make their way back from dinner, which Harry had skipped in favor of thinking things over. He had learned much this year. He knew about the Horcruxes from the memories Dumbledore had showed him this year. He knew that he was going to have to get rid of them, but he wondered just how he was going to be able to do that. Of course, he'd told Hermione and Ron everything about the Horcruxes, both horrified at the idea that Voldemort could only die if they were first found and destroyed.<p>

Harry stared at the fire, absently tossing his years here at Hogwarts back and forth. First year was one of the better years, besides the whole Quirrell-Voldemort thing. He'd made friends he would be considering family for the rest of his life and he'd had fun, regardless of all the danger. He'd been on the Quidditch team, he thought fondly, and had met Hagrid and had his first Christmas with _presents_. Second year was a bit worse, what with everyone considering him the Heir of Slytherin because of him trying to save someone from that snake... And defeating the Basilisk had been scary as hell, he'd admit... but he was glad Hermione was saved.

Third year was the best, Harry remembered, because he met Sirius. Although the dementors were a sorry add-on to that year, Harry had still enjoyed himself. And Lupin had been the best D.A.D.A. teacher ever. Fourth year was probably the worst, he had to admit. He hadn't even wanted to be put into the Goblet of Fire, but soon he was participating and then there was the whole Cedric died and 'now everyone thinks I'm crazy business because Voldemort is back, but no one believes me'. He remembered Fifth year and Umbridge, the ugly thing that had tried to ruin everything... and... Sirius.

Shaking his head, he thought about this past year and remembered all the pensieve meetings with Dumbledore, and remembering being shocked when he found out Draco had dropped out of school. Speaking of... Harry was aghast to think about how his summer would be with the other teen. Truthfully, he'd rather be with the Dursleys'... but if this was the only way to keep others safe, Harry would be willing to try anything. He wished that Hermione and Ron could be with him, he thought mournfully, they'd always been there for him, laughing and crying and comforting him. He couldn't ask for better friends.

Right on cue, he heard the Gryffindor common room portrait open and close, with two voices chatting away amicably. Hermione was talking about test scores, while Ron was moaning about how he wasn't sure if he'd survive another test like his Potions exam. Harry smiled and watched as they came in, Hermione, with her dark eyebrows and forever bushy hair, looking at Ron like he was silly.

"Hello, Harry! We wondered where you were," Hermione greeted as she seated herself next to Harry on the comfortable couch. Ron sat beside her, so she was in the middle.

"Yeah, mate, you missed a fantastic feast! They had the best food yet!"

"Honestly, Ron, it was like all the other feasts. Stop talking about food," Hermione reprimanded and Harry grinned. _Whatever, they're getting married one day anyways, _he thought to himself with a small chuckle, at which Ron glared, thinking he was laughing at his expense. Hermione seemed pleased with herself.

"Anyways," Harry said, "I have some news."

Hermione and Ron sobered and nodded silently, knowing it would be something serious. Ron's freckled face looked as orange as his hair in the fireplace lighting. His eyes sparkled with interest and Hermione's brown eyes gazed at Harry worriedly. Shaking his head, Harry continued.

"I'm not going to the Dursleys' this summer," he announced and Hermione furrowed her brows, but before she could ask anything, Harry went on, "I'll be going somewhere only Dumbledore knows about... and _no_ Ron I can't tell you where. It's for everyone's good, not just mine."

"Harry..." Hermione said softly, placing a hand on his. He smiled sadly at her, knowing she was worried about him.

"It's only until my birthday... I'm sure you'll all be informed about what's going to happen near that time."

"But, Harry, will there be anyone with you?" Ron asked, looking anxious now as well.

"I'll be with someone," Harry said bitterly and his friends looked at each other with unease. Harry noticed this and amended it by saying, "I won't be alone out there. Dumbledore put me with someone he can trust... he asked that I not question his judgment and I won't."

"Can't you at least tell us who it is, mate?" Ron asked, light eyelashes casting shadows down his cheeks. Hermione nodded beside him, looking much like the little girl he had met years ago, but Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry. I would tell you... I would... but- Maybe you'll know soon, but I can't tell you anything. Dumbledore told me that if you want to contact me to send your owls to him," Harry finished lamely, looking away from his longtime companions. Hermione seemed to accept it first, and though Ron had a rather disparaging look on his face, he eventually sighed and sat back to glare at the fire that so matched his flaming hair.

Hermione let go of Harry's hand and stood, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't go to bed yet. I want to spend as much time with you as possible." She looked a bit upset as she finished her sentence, and she walked quickly to the girls' dormitory.

"So, mate, are you nervous?" Ron asked after a few minutes of silence, and Harry looked over to him and grinned.

"Not in the slightest," the brunette answered and Ron grinned, too.

"I hope you don't encounter any giant spiders," Ron snorted.

"...that make me tap dance?" Harry asked and laughed at his own humor. Ron looked a bit confused, but Harry just continued to look amused. After a moment, Harry continued, "Listen, Ron, I know this is sudden and all... and I know you want to go with me... Hermione, too, but... it's not anything I can do about. I trust both of you the _most_... I know you'd be able to help me, but, everything's so dangerous. I think Dumbledore knows that, too. I just want to say thank you, though. For... you know... everything."

"I know, Harry. You're welcome," he said softly, staring at the fire again. Perhaps he was reliving some great memories between the two of them. They'd caused quite a lot of trouble through their years at Hogwarts and Ron grinned a little at everything flashing through his mind. "I'll miss this place."

"Me too." Harry admitted somberly, wishing his life were normal and that Voldemort was out of the picture completely.

"Okay, Harry," that ever familiar female voice began from behind them, "I've brought you some things that I know you'll need on your journey." As she said this, the pretty sixth year traveled to the front of the couch, carefully placing a stack of books on the floor.

"Hermione, I can't carry-"

"I won't make you carry them, Harry, I've charmed you a rucksack in which you can place in anything you want, even a car, and it will fit in there. It's actually similar to the way Ron's father, Mr. Weasley, fixes up his tent. It won't be heavy, I'm not daft, you know," Hermione continued to chatter about the spell as she pulled out the small bag and then she paused.

"Oh, I suppose I should show you which books I've brought for you. Okay, here is _Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts: Parts I-IV, An Extended History of Dark Arts, Dark Arts Rituals And Their Counterparts, and Advanced Potions: Parts I-IV_. I find them all suitable for you to read while you are out there doing whatever it is you are supposed to be doing. They are very important. And, while I guess you won't be able to use magic, you can most assuredly practice saying them and also the wand motions. And Harry, _Dark Arts Rituals and Their Counterparts _has something about," Hermione looked around, lowering her voice to a whisper so the boys had to lean in to hear her, _"Horcruxes." _Hermione nodded at the surprised looks on Harry and Ron's faces.

"Hermione, where did you get these?" Harry asked, taking one book in his hand and rubbing the front, feeling the scratchy surface with his calloused hands. Hermione looked fairly guilty and she blushed a bit.

"I stole them from the Defense Against the Dark Arts restricted section of the library. I removed the spells on them so I could take them out of the library, and Hogwarts, without the school being alerted."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said, amazed at her. She blushed even harder.

"It was hardly something to be proud about, Ronald, honestly." But Harry could tell that she was relishing the way Ron stared at her in awe.

"Thank you, Hermione. I don't know what I'd ever do without you," Harry looked at her in sincerity.

"You'd have gotten killed by the Devil's Snare in our First Year," Hermione stated seriously and then started giggling. Ron and Harry looked at each other and started laughing loudly.

After making sure Harry knew how to use the bag and everything was placed inside, the Golden Trio sat by the firelight, watching Gryffindors all make their way to their beds. They talked and laughed and remembered until the fireplace flames started to dwindle, until they could see no more. When Harry mentioned he had to get up early and still had to pack, Hermione reprimanded him for not telling them sooner, but stood until the other two stood. She hugged Harry tightly and he could tell that she was close to tears. Ron gave him hug as well, though his was brief, but filled with brotherly warmth. Harry watched them go, telling Ron he'd be up in a moment.

Looking around the common room once more, and grabbing his gift from Hermione, Harry made his way upstairs and lay in his bed, sleep evading him.

With his things packed, and everyone still sleeping around him, Harry made his way out of the common room. He passed the many pictures he had come to know over the years, but he couldn't think of anything connected with them, or he might just turn around hide in the common room for the rest of his life... or, at least, until Voldemort found him.

He made his way out of the castle, to where Dumbledore said they would meet, a spot near the beautiful lake by Hogwarts. He had the two rucksacks, one from Dumbledore, one from Hermione. He had let Hedwig fly away, telling her to come back when the danger was gone. He had left most of his stuff behind, besides clothes, Hermione's books, his wand, and invisibility cloak. He had written a quick letter in his nearly illegible handwriting, addressed to Ron and Hermione, where he had made a brief 'goodbye' and 'I love you'.

He saw Dumbledore talking with the familiar shape of a man beside him. Straightening his glasses a bit, Harry realized this was Draco Malfoy... longtime enemy. He looked very different, Harry noticed. His hair, usually swept back away from his face and cropped short, was now looking a lot like his father's: long, shining, and platinum. He had deep circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in forever, and his clothes, though dark, were rumpled instead of neatly pressed. He was pale, as always, but it was a sickly pale, like he hadn't eaten very well, either.

Harry slowed as he neared them, and Draco met his eyes for stormy moment. Harry hadn't realized how _silver_ his eyes were, kind of unearthly, but very... aesthetically pleasing. Just as soon as he looked at Harry, Draco turned his gaze towards Dumbledore, who turned and smiled at the brunette.

"Very good timing, Harry," Dumbledore spoke softly, "I was just talking to Draco here about whom you will be meeting at the Portkey in America. You will be placed inside an airport bathroom. A older gentleman with a sign that bares your last names will be there, and in him you can entrust your safety.

"Some, rules, if I may," he continued, stroking his long, white beard, "You will not be able to use magic, as you have most likely already guessed, for it would be most unfortunate if you were to be traced and found unprotected in another country. Communication will only be reached via Harry's bag, which I've explained to Draco, Harry," the old Headmaster answered before Harry could speak. "And American money will be provided for you in this manner, as well. Your identities will be as college friends enjoying vacation in America. Draco, your identification will say Dean, and Harry, yours will read Samuel. You do not have to call each other that in your presence, but please call each other by your new names in the presence of others. Any questions, my boys?"

Harry shook his head and glanced at Draco who also gave a negative. Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, then! I suppose it is time for you to touch this Portkey. Remember. Once you go through, I will deactivate the Portkey. Goodbye then, lads. I will see you much sooner than you think it will be."

With that, Draco touched the weird soap bottle Dumbledore had on the ground in front of him. Harry took a small breath, nodded at Dumbledore, and did the same.

* * *

><p>Harry landed rather awkwardly on top of someone. <em>Oh God, what if it's a Muggle?<em>

"Get off me, Potter!" Draco's voice soothed _and_ annoyed Harry all at once, thankful he hadn't landed on a Muggle and ruined something already. He scrambled off the Slytherin and stood, pulling his bags up with him and scowling.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so slow, I wouldn't have tripped over you," Harry retorted, though he knew the Malfoy hadn't insulted him. It was just a habit, he guessed, as he watched Draco wipe his clothes free of dirt and dust from the floor.

"Whatever," Draco mumbled, definitely not in the mood to throw around insults with Potter. He just wanted to find this elderly gentleman, and find a nice little inn _and sleep_. Harry looked a bit miffed by being so easily dismissed, but he followed Draco as he made his way out of the bathroom. Suddenly, sound overtook him and he almost ran into Draco, who had stopped.

The airport looked similar to Platform 9¾ on a day when the Hogwart's Express was loading. People were bustling along with suitcases and briefcases, talking on phones, holding children's hands so they wouldn't get lost, and making a lot of noise. Some were sleeping or staring out of the window into the darkness, watching planes come in and go out. Harry felt a hand tap his arm. Looking over, Draco indicated with his head that they were going to go left, which looked like the way out. Harry followed the dark-clothed male, though he was nervous at being so surrounded by Muggles. Sure, he grew up in Muggle London and had gone to Muggle school until he was invited to Hogwarts, but that didn't make this any easier. Were there wizards in America? He wondered and looked around to see if anyone looked magical. Not a one, but Harry thought that maybe that didn't matter. Wizards were good at hiding when they needed to be.

Using his Seeker eyes, Harry scrutinized the crowd for a man holding a sign with their last names on it. Soon, they were looking at a bunch of people with signs, though he hadn't seen their names yet. One said, 'Welcome Home, Mr. Jones', while another said, 'Patricia Young'. He finally saw an older man and squinted his eyes, trying to see through people that blocked the sign.

"Look, Malfoy," Harry muttered and Draco turned and followed Harry's pointing hand. An old gentleman with a silvery beard and deep crow's feet was scouring the place with hawk-like brown eyes. His sign read, 'Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter'. Draco lead the way again as they pushed a path through the large crowd of people. The man's hawk eyes landed on them almost immediately and he waited until they were in front of him before he broke out into a grin.

"Hello. My name is Jonathan Fledgling," that sounds wizard-like, Harry thought, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter." He held out a hand to each of them for a quick shake and then folded his sign under his arm. "I'll be driving you to your first location. You will be staying in a hotel near the beach. You're in Florida, by the way. Miami." Jonathan's American accent sounded sort of flat to Draco and Harry, but he also sounded friendly enough and was obviously a wizard. "Once you get to the hotel, I will be leaving you on your own with instructions on what you will be doing during the summer. Mostly, you'll be enjoying yourselves. I trust one of you knows how to drive."

Draco looked like he was confused, but Harry interjected before he could say anything. "Yes, sir, I learned how to drive a few years back." And he had. Though it pained him to do so, Mr. Dursley had taught Harry how to work a car so he could run long errands for the family without having to use a broom or take unnecessary time away from the rest of his chores (walking takes a long time, they thought). Draco looked at him incredulously and Harry shrugged.

"Driving is a bit different from England, here, Harry. The driver's side is on the left side, while you drive on the right side of the road," Jonathan stated. They had started walking and were nearing the exit of the airport. "You'll see when I drive you to the hotel." He held the clear, glass door open for the two young men he was escorting.

Harry's green eyes were darting all over the place, taking in everything and also watching for signs of other wizards. The air here wasn't as bogged down with magic as England was, but the Gryffindor could definitely feel the surging lines of thaumaturgy that had been so familiar to him throughout his life. It was a different sort of magic feeling though. It was charged and jumpy, quite like lightening. From what he heard about America, he assumed that the magic felt that way because of the people. In England, the magic felt heavy, almost like it choked up most of the area, taking residence in all the space left. Here it was scattered, jumping from place to place, but very visible once he stepped out into the air. Which also smelt different. The air here smelled like... the ocean. He supposed that was because the ocean surrounded this entire state, if he remembered Florida correctly from the maps he had studied of the world.

Draco was looking around warily, and he also searched and prodded at the magical current to get a feel of it. He came to close to the same conclusion as Harry, but he thought that maybe the majority of wizards and witches lived in England and the reason why the magic was so jumpy and visible was because only a small amount of people used it here.

The heat here was sweltering, though it was only the beginning of the summer holiday, and it was still night time here. Draco pulled at his dark clothing, pondering if Dumbledore had not told him of the weather on purpose. It seemed like something the old fool would do just to mess with him. The blonde wondered, absently, if Dumbledore should have been in Slytherin. He was quite sneaky, especially when he wanted his way. Shaking his head at his thoughts, he looked over at Harry, who had his dark jumper sleeves pulled up and was looking around, the slight Florida breeze whipping around his brunette hair.

It was something that had annoyed Draco, that hair of Harry's. It seemed to never just lie down on his head. It was always tousled, always looking as if he didn't even brush it at all, though it was always shiny and full. Eyes traveling, Draco watched Harry's emerald eyes as they sparkled in the airport's artificial lighting, just behind his glasses. His skin was darker than Draco's, of course, the Gryffindor was always out and about with Granger and Weasley. No longer did he look completely skinny and short, he had grown a bit over his sixth year, so that he looked quite lithe actually, though still a bit on the shorter side. Noticing that he was staring, Draco turned away. Harry was still a no good Gryffindor, if his insult in the airport bathroom was anything to go by. Well... he couldn't blame Harry, though. He hadn't quite been the nicest person, himself.

"Here's my car. Set your bags in the trunk," Jonathan instructed as he sat in the driver's seat and started the car. He was right. The driver's side _was_ on the opposite side. Harry sat on the right side and Draco slid in on the left. The car was rather small, but comfortable enough. And, fortunately for Draco, the air worked perfectly. As they started to drive, Jonathan pointed out various places, like cheap restaurants, where to get gas for the car, other hotels, where to get to the beach and so forth. It didn't take much time to get to where they wanted, which was the Miami Biltmore Hotel.

"I don't want you two to get used to such a luxury hotel. Dumbledore requested you two stay in a nice place for your first night in America. He only has a certain amount of funds he can give you. Remember that," Jonathan warned as they pulled up. As soon as they pulled up to the place, there were concierges there for their luggage, but Jonathan shooed them off, opening the trunk and handing Harry and Draco their own bags. "Follow me."

They checked into the hotel, or... Jonathan checked in for them, rather, and they made their way to their suite, which was called a Tower Suite. Harry was absolutely impressed by the grandeur of the hotel, having only been to the creepy_, painful _Knight Bus, and the dilapidated hotel he'd stayed in before his third year at Hogwarts. Draco, however, had houses like this, and the decor was a little too cheery and warm for his tastes. He was used to deep greens, silvers, blacks, and darker shades to welcome him. However, at least the place was clean. He was a bit put off by the fact that Jonathan had said they weren't going to be staying in hotels like this for their entirety in America. What horrors awaited him? He saw Harry looking around with wonder and almost snorted.

The living room was large and the bedroom had two large beds in it, but everything was _yellow _and _white_. Draco felt like a Hufflepuff with all the blinding colors, though the black was missing. He sighed and placed his bag beside the bed near the bedroom door. Harry could have the window to wake him up in the morning. He'd rather sleep for days. Draco made his way back into the living, sitting as far away from Harry on the couch as he could.

"Okay, so. Here's what's going to happen," Jonathan started, he was standing at the window in the living room, gazing down at the view of trees and the dimly lit, exotic cabana below. "You're not going to spend more than four days at the same hotel, the risk of you getting comfortable is not worth it. You will be given American currency via Harry's bag, as Dumbledore has instructed. You will use the car provided for you, and there is a hidden stash of tags under the tarp in the trunk that you will change every time you leave a hotel. Every time you change hotels, you must travel to a different state. If you wish to sleep in the car, that's fine too. You can _not_ use magic, under no circumstances are you to use magic," Jonathan stopped here for emphasis, looking Harry in the eye, and then Draco. "If you need to contact Dumbledore, you know how. After I leave, you will be on your own. Completely on your own until Harry's birthday... Is that clear?"

Harry swallowed, the responsibility of it all feeling heavy on his shoulders. He wondered if Draco felt the same. Could he actually trust Draco, who had been so cowardly in his previous Hogwarts years? _Merlin, I hope so. If he does something to get us caught, I won't know what to do. I don't understand how Dumbledore can trust him so readily. _

"Yes, sir," Draco answered for him, silver eyes displaying a look of being bored. Jonathan smiled, Dumbledore had said he'd be like that.

"Good, then. I will leave you my phone number just in case, though. I trust Harry knows how to use one?"

"Of course, sir."

"Very well. Are there any questions?"

"Are you a wizard, sir?" Harry's question was not at all unexpected, though he knew Harry already knew the answer.

"Yes." Jonathan nodded to emphasize his point. He pulled his wand from his beneath his suit coat, and showed it to Harry.

"How do you know Dumbledore?" Harry asked, gazing at the wand. Jonathan laughed lightly.

"I thought you'd ask that. I don't suppose it's my business telling you. You should ask Dumbledore when you get the chance." The young brunette in front of him looked a bit put off by being evaded, but at least he accepted it.

"How are we supposed to trust you?" Draco asked quietly from his side of the couch and Jonathan was extremely amused.

"Coming from you? I guess you'll just have to put your trust in me, much like Harry here has to trust you won't try to kill him during his stay here in America."

"You act as if you know exactly who I am and what I stand for... In which case, I should tell you to mind your own business because you know nothing. But since my life is in your hands at this point, I am obliged to ask if I can trust _you_," Draco said this quite venomously, though his voice was as cold as a freeze during winter. His steely silver eyes cut like a saw, but Jonathan held his ground. Harry coughed a little, and Jonathan was bemused that he was trying to cut the tension.

"You can trust me, is all I can say. I was in my school's equivalent to Gryffindor. Always doing the right thing, you know?" Harry smiled and nodded at him, but Draco scoffed and looked away, apparently unsatisfied with the answer, but not in the mood to quarrel.

"Well, if there aren't any more questions, I think I'll be leaving then. It was nice to meet you _both_. I look forward to seeing you succeed in defeating the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter." With that, Jonathan was gone, apparating on the spot.

And then the remaining occupants in the room realized they were alone with each other. For the first time ever.

"Umm-"

"Don't bother, Potter. I'm not here to be friends with you, nor am I here to fight with you. I simply want to stay away from Voldemort, but Dumbledore stuck me with you," the blonde had his arms crossed and was glaring at Harry rather harshly. Harry's nostrils flared, but he bit his lip and then continued.

"I was just going to suggest that we go to bed so that we might get used to the time shift. I don't know about you, but I didn't get much sleep last night."

Draco blinked, "Oh." That was all he could say. Then he nodded and stood abruptly, making his way to the room to grab a pair of pyjamas to change into and his toothbrush. Harry watched him go and waited until he heard the bathroom door close before he made his way, with his bags, to the bedroom. He noticed a few of Draco's things on the bed near the door and was relieved that he got the bed by the window. He had always liked looking outside, especially late at night or early in the morning. Usually Hedwig would have flown up to the window for a pet, greeting him for the day. He smiled sadly at that... he worried about her safety.

Harry wondered about Draco's behavior, too. One minute he was silent and another he was telling Potter off and glaring. But Harry didn't want to fight... so instead of retorting that he didn't want to be with Draco either, because he _really_ didn't, he had suggested they go to bed. If he had been Ron, he definitely would have bitten Draco's head off. Harry didn't want things to be awkward though, he wanted to make things work and at least be as civil as possible. He didn't want to be friends with Draco, either. The other teen was a coward and a prat.

Searching through the bag Hermione gave him, Harry pulled out his own clothes and toothbrush for the night. Maybe he'd read a bit of one of the books Hermione had given him as well. Hearing the bathroom door open, Harry glanced up. Draco stood at the entrance of the bathroom with his dirty clothes folded in hand, looking at Harry... or... actually he looked like he was going to kill Harry if he said anything. Harry lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Draco was wearing silk pyjamas, a deep green color. Come to think of it, Harry couldn't recall actually seeing so much of Draco's skin. He'd always been covered in school robes and long sleeved jumpers, eternally long pants, and shoes. At that thought, Harry's eyes flashed towards Draco's feet, which he'd never seen bare before.

Draco noticed Harry's line of sight and walked to the side of his bed so Harry couldn't see his feet. "It's your turn, Potter," he said somewhat irritably.

_Oh, right. I suppose he doesn't care for me staring at his feet. It's just so weird. It makes him seem... more normal_. Harry shrugged to himself as he made his way to bathroom. Draco had made sure he left no mess, with his toothbrush sitting in the cup. The bathroom was pretty glorious, Harry had to admit. It was spotless and immaculate, pearly and lit perfectly. Harry stared at his reflection for a moment, noticing that, like Draco, his eyes had deep circles under them as well, though his glasses made it look as if they were just shadows. Closing the door and making sure that it was locked, he removed his glasses, folding them, and placed them on the sink counter and looked back at himself. He pushed his scraggly hair back a bit, but then his scar seemed to flare to life. He traced it, hating it instantly. Gazing into his own eyes, he tried to find Lily in them. Everyone said he had his mother's eyes... He wished, for the millionth time in his life, that she were here still and that he had known her. He turned away, unable to look at himself anymore, his own reflection haunting him. The Gryffindor turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up as he stripped his clothing.

Draco sat on his bed, which was insanely comfortable compared to what he had been sleeping on previously, thinking about everything that happened not only in the last twenty-four hours, but the last six months. Everything had changed so drastically when he'd grown a backbone. _Gryffindors must be exhausted all the time then,_ Draco thought wryly.

The Slytherin remembered it clearly, though. He had just been tortured for a good few hours and his father was just staring at him, as always. He never did _anything_ but throw him into the flames once more. Draco could faintly hear his mother crying and asking why. At least she had had the guts to do that. Lucius had just sat there, dumb to the world. Scared. _Pathetic_. Suddenly, Draco couldn't stomach being a coward anymore. He didn't want to be his father. He wanted to be_ Draco. _He'd been taught his whole life to believe one thing... something that had made it hard for him to gain true friends, something that made him less, though his father claimed it made him _more_ or _better._

Sighing, the blonde slid more under the covers, into a comfortable sleeping position... which was on his back so that he could see everything. He'd become so used to sleeping like that as he hid in the small cottage that only his mother knew about.

Soon, her shelter wasn't enough. They would torture her for information and they would learn where he was, if he stayed there. His death warrant had sealed the deal. So he'd tried to get in touch with Dumbledore and had apparated to the small hotel he'd stayed in for a week. It was miraculous that it had worked. And Draco thanked whatever Gods were out there for his lucky break. He'd been having such a crap year. Trying snuff to his burning flame of thoughts out, Draco huffed and closed his eyes. Though he thought it'd be hard to go to sleep, as it had been last night, the blonde fell asleep in just a few minutes.

Harry opened the bathroom door and heard nothing but slow, even breaths. He tiptoed out to in between the beds and peered over at Draco. He was asleep. _Well, he looks peaceful when he's not snarling at someone in disgust. _Harry smiled and jumped on his bed quietly, relieved to feel the lovely softness of it. It felt like he was lying on clouds. _I could definitely get used to this. And at least at I don't have to hide under a cover to read_. Rolling over until he was able to reach his bag by the window, Harry rustled in the rucksack, pulling out books until he found _An Extended History of Dark Arts. _Hermione always said that is was proper to start at the very beginning to understand the mechanics of something. If he wanted to understand the Dark Arts, he'd start at the beginning. Glancing back at Draco, Harry pursed his lips. He thought the blonde looked rather stiff even in sleep. Couldn't he just relax? But he supposed that he himself had been given plenty of years to get used to the fact that Voldemort wanted him dead. Draco had only now just realized he could lose his life at the megolomaniac's hands. _Nevermind_, Harry thought tersely and opened the book to page one.

* * *

><p>WOO. Over 6,000 words! I'm proud of myself! I haven't been able to write this much in YEARS. Super excited, y'all!<p>

This chapter is dedicated to **Hannaki**, my first anonymous reviewer, and **JustR**, my first signed-in reviewer. Thanks you two for your words and thank you to everyone else who favorited and read the first chapter.


	3. By the Sea

**.:R**_un_**:.**

**by**: **S**_tupefiedNarutard_

_**NOTES**_: I've altered some of the facts in Harry Potter to fit purposes of the story, such as timing of certain events (this will still be in 1997, however) (this particular chapter is may 1st, 1997). I will try to keep them as in-character as possible... but this_ is_ fanfiction after all. This starts off at the end of the 6th year of Hogwarts, which is the end of April instead of May, but Dumbledore is alive because I need him for the plot. Voldemort was unable to get his plan in motion because Draco left Hogwarts in the mid-beginning of the year and went into hiding.

Lyrics are from a song called 'By the Sea'. I'm not quite sure who sang it because I got it off a Disney sing-a-long video, lol. My childhood! :D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or characters affiliated, but I am not making profit from writing this.

_**Summary**_**:** Draco Malfoy had always been one of Voldemort's favorites, that is, until he finally gains the courage to leave the Dark. Being hitlisted by the Dark Lord, Draco obtains the help of Albus, only to be put where he'd never want to be: with Harry.

[Drarry]

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong> h a p t e r **T** h r e e:

†**B**y **t**he **S**ea†

‡

"_By the beautiful sea,_

_you and me,_

_oh how happy we'll be..._"

* * *

><p>A loud knock on the door brought Harry hurling himself up into a sitting position, panic setting in before he managed to calm himself down and remind himself of where, exactly, he was. He had thought, for a bleary moment, that he was at the Dursleys' and he had overslept, again! He would surely be punished for missing breakfast, Dudley's favorite meal of the day. Well, next to lunch and dinner.<p>

His heart still racing, the brunette lifted the heavenly warm covers from himself, and set his feet on the ground as quietly as possible. He didn't want to wake Draco and ignite his flaring temper for being awoken so early in the morning. Harry could tell, by the sun, that it was still quite early. He cautiously opened the suite's bedroom door, and padded along to the main door. Peeking through the hole, trying not to make noise, he saw what looked like a maid. She looked slightly nervous, smoothing out her black and white dress and apron. She had a trolley with her, which had silver covered platters on it. Harry pondered on whether he should open the door or not. She could very well be a Death Eater in disguise. _But how would they know we were here?_ Harry thought to himself and shook his head. His wand was hidden in his cotton pyjama sleeve, either way.

Opening the heavy door, the maid curtsied quickly. "Mr...?" she started, indicating it was a question of who he was.

"Potter." Harry answered, peering around the maid into the hallway. She looked a bit confused as he did this, but continued on after his short reply.

"Mr. Potter, I have here a breakfast delivery. A Jonathan Fledgling made your accommodations and said you would be taking breakfast early. I've also, on his request, brought you some fresh beach towels, sunscreen, and some new beach clothes. He said you'd be out at the beach for the day. I hope this will all be to your liking." She curtsied again and circled the trolley so she could push it into the room. Harry moved out of her way, her tan cheeks flushed as if she'd already made a mistake.

"This is really nice of you, thanks," Harry answered and her eyes met his for a brief moment. She looked even more confused than before, but didn't say anything as she pulled the clothes and towels from the trolley, setting them neatly on the counter she'd pulled up to. She pulled two plates and glasses from the trolley as well and looked as if she were going to serve him, too. "Oh, please, you don't have to do that."

She froze, her dark brown eyes flickering with doubt. "O-oh... I- Well if you'd prefer someone else to do this for you, then I will summon another-"

"No, no, I mean, I'll do it for myself. I'm just saying I'm capable of serving myself breakfast. You can, um, well you don't have to go if you don't want to, but if you have something else to do you can do... that...," Harry trailed off. He'd never been in a place as fancy as this and he'd just now started to understand that perhaps it was her job to go to such lengths. He didn't want to insult her, but he'd really rather serve himself breakfast. It just didn't seem right for another person to serve him. He grimaced at his own lack of etiquette and smiled at the girl apologetically. "I'm sorry, you're doing lovely, I'm just not used to... this... treatment."

She seemed to immediately relax in relief. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I assumed that I wasn't doing my job to your liking. If you're more comfortable doing this by yourself, I'll take my leave of you." She curtsied again and made to leave.

"Um, don't you... need a tip?" Harry asked, color tinging his cheeks. Merlin, but was he being lame today.

The young lady looked surprised again, but she smiled. "Mr. Potter, you're very different from most of the people who stay here. All the tips come with our paychecks. But... thank you, sir. You're very kind."

"Oh... well... alright then. Have a nice day then."

"You as well, sir." And she turned and shut the door behind her, leaving the trolley full of steaming breakfast items in the room. He supposed room service would clean it later. It seemed as if Jonathan had assumed that Draco and he would go to the beach. Harry didn't think it'd be such a bad idea. He'd never been to a beach before... Of course, he'd seen it on TV and the Dursley's had pictures of themselves at the beach in random places of the house. And it wasn't as if there were very many dangerous people here. At least, not like Voldemort. _So... what would it hurt?_

The breakfast smelled very appetizing, and Harry supposed he should wake Draco up if they were to make their way to beach today. He hoped Draco went a long with it. He didn't particularly feel like braving the beach completely alone. _But, knowing Draco, he'll probably say his skin burns much too easily and that the filthy Muggles would absolutely ruin the whole time there._ Harry glared at the bedroom door bitterly. He stomped over, already mad at Draco in his mind, and banged on the door before opening it quickly.

"I hate lemon drops!" Draco slurred as he sat up. Harry's moment of anger was lost upon him as he took in Draco's state of appearance. He was glad the blonde hadn't been the one to answer the door. He looked downright scary. His silk pajamas had slid down over one shoulder, revealing slightly milky looking skin. His hair was absolutely in a state of distress, looking like Harry's did most of the time. His grey eyes were bloodshot and bleary. Harry burst out laughing. Draco seemed to realize where he was and _who_ he was with, and immediately started glaring holes into Harry's body. He ran into the bathroom, slamming the door as Harry guffawed, holding onto the door frame so he didn't fall in his laughing weakness.

It didn't take long for Draco to emerge, still looking peeved. Harry was settling their breakfast on two plates and he grinned at Draco as he walked in the dining room area. "Good morning, Malfoy. I see you're looking... better." Harry's playful tone made Draco want to hex him.

_ Stupid Gryffindor. _

"I don't see what is so amusing, Potter. But of course, you've always been immature," the blonde sneered, pulling his plate away from Potter's reach. Harry just looked amused as he slid a glass of orange juice in Draco's direction.

"Sorry," he said quietly, taking a seat across from Draco, much to the blonde's utter disappointment. They sat in silence, the clink of forks and chewing the only thing making sounds. Draco thought Harry's chewing was irritating, the way he stuck a huge piece of pancake in his mouth without any regard for whom he was eating in front of. He chomped on his food without care, the masticated fluffy breakfast item showing every time he opened his mouth. Draco set his fork down, staring.

Harry seemed oblivious for a few minutes as he smothered his pancakes with hot syrup. This was the best breakfast he'd had on a summer vacation _ever_. Not that he was saying his own cooking sucked... they just didn't let him have breakfast while it was hot... and even then the cold lumps of leftovers, looking half-eaten by Dudley, weren't very satisfying. He felt eyes on him, though, and he glanced up to see the blonde looking at his mouth in disgust. His cheeks turned red and he swallowed, closing his mouth. He must've looked like some kind of animal eating the way he did.

"Excuse me, do you see something interesting?" Harry asked contentiously, face still flaming. Draco seemed to break away from his trance and then he smirked.

"No, nothing, Potter, I see that _you're_ looking better now that you've decided to gain some manners."

"Sorry I wasn't raised to your proper standards, Malfoy," the brunette bit out, and shoved away from the counter. His appetite was lost to him now anyways. He went over to the trash can and dumped his leftover items, then he placed his empty plate onto the trolley. Turning back to the blonde, Harry looked miffed. Draco looked away for a moment and it took all he had, but he sighed and caught Harry's attention.

"Look... I don't particularly like this situation... but if I'm going to be stuck with you, I don't want to be fighting with you every step of the way. I'm much too tired to be figuring out an appropriate retort, anyways." And, truly, Draco was too tired to be thinking about any of this. He didn't _want _to have any more enemies. Wasn't he supposed to be trying to figure out what _he_ liked or wanted, as opposed to what his father had made him believe? Was Potter really so bad in the new light he could view him in, if he so chose?

After a few moments, Harry shuffled back over to the counter where they ate and sat back down in the chair. "Okay," he started, a bit nervously, running a hand through his unfettered, tangled hair. "... Okay. I don't want to be enemies, Malfoy, I don't. And... I suppose... if you want to be cordial, I'm _not,_ in any way, going to deny that. I don't know what's been going on with you lately. Obviously, you're having a hard time with this... whole... transition. I don't blame you. But if we're going to be treating each other with some sort of respect... then we're going to have to start over. Forget the past and just... start over. Like we don't even know each other, but, you know... we do."

Draco stared at Harry for a little bit, shifting uncomfortably. "You are asking something that is going to take a lot of work on both our parts. Are you sure you aren't too stubborn for this to work?"

Harry snorted. "Me? Stubborn? _You're_ the stubborn one here, but," he paused and grinned, a grin so familiar Draco was transported back to better days, "I suppose I can compose myself a bit, yeah. So... what do you say?"

The blonde Slytherin thought for a moment. It'd certainly be nice not having to hide himself away and he had promised himself that he would_ try_ to be a better person... someone his mother would be proud of. He knew that both of their pasts wouldn't erase just because they said it would, but pretending would probably aid them in getting to know the real them. He accepted that a lot of his thoughts about Harry had come from speculation, and mutterings from his father. Of course, being in Slytherin didn't help. Everyone in the sneaky House thought Potter was a pompous arse, gloating in his fame and consorting with mudbloods and blood traitors alike. Shaking his thoughts from him, he nodded tentatively and Harry positively beamed, emerald eyes shining.

"Fantastic! Alright then. Hello there. My name is Harry Potter," Harry held out his hand and Draco was briefly met with a memory of him holding his own hand out for friendship. Except he'd been a pureblooded snarky prat and insulted someone Harry had already decided was also a friend. The blonde clasped the other's hand, feeling callouses against his own soft fingers as he shook Harry Potter's hand.

"Draco Malfoy," he answered in response and lifted the corners of his mouth in a grin that wasn't filled with malice. Harry thought he looked rather nice like that, and the brunette felt like he really _could_ forget everything that Draco had said or done over the many years at Hogwarts. He placed another hand over Draco's and shook harder, laughing a bit at the thought that he was shaking Draco Malfoy's hand, actually trying to be civil.

"Pleasure," Harry said enthusiastically, and then seemed to realize he'd been shaking Draco's hand for too long. He cleared his throat, smile still on his face. Draco looked at him warily, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into. "Oh!" Harry exclaimed suddenly and made his way over to another counter. "A maid stopped by, of course, you ate the breakfast, but she left us with these. Jonathan suggested that we go to the beach today! I think it's a great idea... do you fancy going?" Harry looked hopeful, almost like he really had completely forgotten he wasn't in the company of Weasley or Granger, that he was talking to an old friend. It was odd for Draco because he had always believed Harry was... snobby... in his fame. Who knew he'd been so willing to forgive and forget?

_But the beach? Really?_

"But it will be full of _Muggles_ and it will be hot," Draco frowned and Harry rolled his eyes, like he'd assumed Draco would say something like that.

"Oh, come _on_. It'll be fun! I've never been the beach before... I've seen loads of pictures and the telly had some documentaries about sea creatures. I don't think there would be mermaids near such a crowded area... Are there even mermaids in America? But still, you won't have to do anything you don't want to and-" Draco snorted, stopping the flow of words coming from Harry's mouth.

"_Alright_, Potter, don't get your panties in a bunch. But don't expect me to like it or go into the ocean... or anything, really," Draco commented, and Harry smiled again, something that the blonde was getting used to. The smile was actually pretty infectious, and it lit up Harry's entire face, not just his mouth. Draco wondered if he himself would ever look that happy again.

"Okay, so, we'll dress in these swim trunks under our regular clothes and then I'll drive us-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Draco looked horrified. "I forgot you were driving. Maybe we should just stay in for today."

"No way! You already said yes and I'm a fine driver. A lot better than Ron, I think. His driving is atrocious. Drove us straight into the Whomping Willow in second year," Harry looked thoughtful at the memory and Draco furrowed his brows, lifting his lip in disbelief.

"Why on Earth were you driving into the Whomping Willow in_ second year_?" Draco asked, and Harry laughed at his facial expression.

"Oh, well... it's a long story. See, Dobby was trying to keep me away from Hogwarts-"

"Dobby? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Well, I was _trying_ to tell you, but you keep interrupting," Harry looked at him pointedly and Draco pursed his lips. "Dobby was trying to keep me away from Hogwarts because of the whole Basilisk thing and your father, so he shut off Platform 9¾-"

"What do mean, my father? What did my father have to do with that Basilisk? And why the hell did Dobby disobey father in the first place?"

Harry sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. "Your father gave Ginny Weasley a copy of Tom Riddle's diary," Harry glared at Draco when he opened his mouth to interrupt again. "Tom Riddle is Voldemort. Tom Marvolo Riddle shuffled around spells, 'I am Lord Voldemort'. Ginny was possessed by the diary. In the end, we ended up in the Chamber of Secrets, and I had to destroy the diary with a Basilisk tooth to kill the part of Voldemort that was left in the diary. I gave your father the ruined diary because I knew he'd given it to her. He gave it to Dobby, but little did he know that I had tucked a sock into the book, freeing him. He almost tried to kill me, your Dad, but Dobby stopped him."

Draco sat there for a moment, tumbling the story around in his head. Somehow, he would have _loved_ to see the look on his father's face when he realized he had freed Dobby thanks to Harry. No wonder he had been so angry that summer... The thought made Draco laugh out loud.

"Wow. I think that's the first time I've ever heard you truly laugh," Harry said in wonder. Draco blinked and looked away. "Um," Harry coughed, realizing he must've sounded awkward, "So yeah, I think I'm capable of driving there."

"Fine, but if you kill me, Potter, I will haunt you forever."

Harry chuckled, but Draco wasn't kidding.

* * *

><p>"Oh my- Potter, will you <em>please<em> slow down?" Draco breathed, gripping the handle latched to the ceiling of the car, his other arm stretched so he could hold the dashboard... as if it would make it less likely for them to go careening off the highway. People here were crazy drivers, not that he really knew how people drove in England. He was used to floo and apparition. The drivers here, though, they got in front of you without warning and were maneuvering their vehicles in such a way that had Draco's head spinning. And Harry, so used to driving in such an opposite manner, seemed to get confused every once in a while.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry asked above the din of the wind blowing in through his window. He glanced over at Draco and grinned mischievously.

"You _wish_," Draco answered and wondered why this all sounded so familiar. Harry seemed to be enjoying himself, regardless of the danger. _Typical Gryffindor_.

"You shouldn't be so frightened, really. It's kinda like riding a broom, except, well, not."

"I'm glad you could come up with such an articulate way to describe it, thanks," Draco answered sarcastically, voice sounding small among the wind whipping through the car. The blonde wondered if, yet again, his hair looked similar to the way Harry's always did. He supposed it must, but it actually felt good to have the breeze blowing in his hair again. It had been such a long time since he'd been able to ride his broom or actually _go_ anywhere... and forget Quidditch. There was no one there to play it with. The air here smelled so lovely, too. It was a perfect mix of sea salt, hot sand, and what smelled like rain, but what Draco knew to be the ocean. While the air was hot and humid, making Draco's forehead sheen with the glint of sweat (very un-Malfoy like), the breeze seemed to carry away the irritation that came with stifling heat. Of course, they'd brought Harry's bags with them for money and to carry their beach things.

Not only was the weather on Draco's mind, but Harry was as well. It seemed like the Gryffindor wasn't_ trying _to forgive him, he _was _forgiving him. And while Draco knew most Gryffindors were full of notions of honor and chivalry, he doubted that any other Gryffindor would dismiss their feud so quickly. In fact, he was sure they'd have laughed in his face and refused to go with him. But not Harry. And Draco couldn't figure out if it was because Harry was just accepting of everyone, or because Harry was just really _stupid_. Draco didn't know if he'd of had the guts or the humility to actually do what Harry was doing.

_But it could just be because he doesn't want his friends to get hurt... and he's going along with this just for their sake. As soon as this is over, he'll go back to being my enemy... _Draco glanced over at Harry at the thought. His smiling face, the sun glinting off his glasses, made him look like he was the most carefree person in the world, when, in fact, he was probably one of the least carefree. Voldemort had been trying to kill him his entire life, and here Draco was having a hard time adjusting to half a year of being on a hit list. The quick transition of enemies to... friendship... was making him feel off kilter.

"Look, Malfoy, there's the exit," Harry exclaimed in excitement, pointing, which Draco wished he wouldn't do because that made him take one hand off the wheel. Harry swerved, after clicking his blinker on- Draco gave a querulous squeak at this-, and he made a beeline for the exit. A horn blared from behind them, which Harry glared at for a moment before placing his focus back onto the exit ramp for the beach. "This is brilliant."

Draco, who had been holding onto his seat for dear life, straightened up, breathing a sigh of absolute relief that they were so close to their destination. He didn't know how much more of this _driving_ he could take, and he was full of dread thinking about how much driving they'd be doing over the summer. _Maybe I'll be better off surrendering myself to the Dark Lord,_ Draco thought, jokingly, to stave off his nervousness. The road to the beach, surprisingly, wasn't as busy as he thought it'd be. The blonde wondered why other kids and teenagers weren't going to the beach as well. Isn't that what most Americans did? Oh, but then they could still be school. That could certainly be why they weren't all crowding the beach.

They drove for a while more, until they saw brilliant blue clashing with white beach sand, the shore dotted with various people. Harry wondered if any of them were wizards or witches. He wouldn't ask, of course, but he was still curious. Would he be able to feel their magic? The magic in the air already felt different, perhaps it would be harder to read them as well. Glancing over to the blonde, he saw Draco staring out of the windshield, silver eyes gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting the water and sand almost perfectly.

"I don't know where to park," Harry mumbled, and lifted his head a bit, searching for a spot on the deep black concrete. Even if there weren't as much people as they'd thought, there was still a considerable amount. Harry spotted an open space and parked their borrowed silver 1997 Honda Accord. He cut the air off and then pulled the key from the ignition, looking over at Draco. Draco looked right back at him. He seemed to be contemplating on saying something, but the platinum haired Slytherin slipped off his seat belt and opened the door. Harry followed suit, nervous, but undeniably excited about his first time on the beach. He made sure he took out their beach things and left the two rucksacks in the locked car, wary of bringing them in case someone stole them.

Draco had already begun walking and Harry glared, trying to catch up. "First," Draco's voice startled the brunette, "we need to find a place to change. I'm sure they have lockers somewhere around here." Harry pursed his lips.

_If I'd known that, I'd have brought the bags. _

"I think I see them over there." Draco didn't even wait for Harry to comprehend his sentence before he started walking in that direction. Sure enough, the rooms were changing rooms, accompanied by lockers. The floor was wet, sloppy footprints and lingering sand making the floor slippery. Draco moved into a changing stall and Harry glanced around uncertainly. He folded himself into a stall and began removing his clothes until he was standing barefoot in swimming trunks. He placed his beach towel over his arm, and pushed open the stall, leaving it and watching as another man entered it.

"Draco?" Harry asked loudly and was almost hit by the stall door Draco had been using. "Oi, watch it, Malfoy!"

"Stop standing around like an idiot, move," Draco said tersely, arms crossed over his middle.

"OH. So that's why you're being so fussy," Harry smiled. "You look fine, Malfoy, really."

Draco sputtered, his cheeks tinging in color. "I don't know if you and your Gryffindor friends commented like that, but in Slytherin you don't tell other men that they look _fine_ and it's _none_ of your business." The blonde moved quickly from the changing room and Harry followed, smiling at Draco's defensiveness. Honestly, if he was_ that_ easy to mess with, then he'd certainly have no problems with having fun this summer. Harry was looking forward to being friends with Draco, but it didn't mean he couldn't tease him as recompense for Draco's past behavior. They made their way to the lockers and placed their things in one, Harry removed his glasses and slipped it inside Hermione's bag.

Stepping into the sunlight, Harry warmed all over, both from the heat and the happiness in his heart. This was his first beach trip and he wasn't going to waste any time i-

"_HOLY MERLIN_," Harry's screech seemed to attract a few stares and giggles from passersby and Draco stood there, arms still folded, rolling his eyes.

"Honestly, Potter, did you think that the sand would be cool? The sun is baring down on it all day."

"You could have_ said _something_, _Malfoy!" Harry accused, skipping around on his damaged feet, happy for the shaded part of the locker room, wet from people's coming and goings. Draco lifted a delicate eyebrow, shook his head and laughed haughtily.

"If you wish to get to the beach without burning yourself completely, we have to run to the water and soak our feet in it. I used to do this all the time with my mother," Draco admitted as he stared out at the beach line, his eyes distant at the memory. Harry watched those stormy eyes glaze over and he wondered what Draco's memories would look like in the pensieve. Certain people's memories looked differently, _felt_ differently. Like Slughorn's. His had been warm and what felt like _lazy_, maybe something to capture his personality. Dumbledore's had been wispy, cold, all over the place, like the mind behind the calculating pair of twinkling eyes. Dipping into Snape's mind had been weird... nothing at all like his personality. He had thought it would feel like slime or trudging through some sort of smoky darkness, but it was more like watching a sunset and feeling like it'd be your last, sort of forlorn. At that thought, he wondered what his _own_ memories would be like for others. Obviously, they'd take one look at his memories and write him off as qualified for St. Mungo's.

"Well, are we going?" Draco's accented voice brought him from his thoughts and he nodded, eyebrows furrowed. "I guess we go on the count of three," Draco looked a bit worried himself. "One, two... three!"

And they were off. Harry still felt the stinging heat after a few moments of running, and the sand made it hard for him to get anywhere fast. It seemed Draco was having the same luck, if the wincing was anything to go by. After what seemed like eternity, the two wizards ran into the wet part of the sand and continued on until they were knee deep in the ocean. Harry looked over at Draco, both of them panting with the effort. The brunette laughed, circling around a bit to take it all in, the hotels surrounding the beach, the waves, the people.

Draco watched him examining everything, the Gryffindor's smile making his eyes crinkle at the edges, throaty laughter bubbling from his lips. It was much like watching a child trying something new for the first time, and the blonde realized that maybe this was exactly what this was. Harry had reverted back to a child's mindset, completely bombarded with foreign, but pleasurable sensations. Draco remembered his first time at the beach... It had been a lovely day... a time when their family wasn't so acquainted with darkness. The Malfoy shook his head, and went back to watching as Harry ran around, splashing his feet in the foamy water.

Suddenly, the Potter was grabbing his hand, which sent a shock to Draco's system. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in such a friendly manner. Harry pulled him deeper into the ocean, pointing at a group of teenagers who were going out and then riding the waves back to the shore. Draco completely forgot about not wanting to get the water. Somehow, the eager look on Harry's face made him actually _want_ to try and have fun. They went out as far as the other teens and waited until they felt a wave building up. It pulled them slightly back, sand pulling away from their feet to make them wobble. Harry still held onto his hand, but was looking back, waiting for the perfect moment to let go of his weight.

"Here it comes!" Harry's shout was happy, excited, tinged with childlike fervor. Draco found the corners of his mouth upturning slightly.

The wave pushed them towards the shore, and, oddly, it felt like flying.

* * *

><p>They were sitting under an umbrella, at some café just at the edge of the beach, for lunch.<p>

"That was amazing, honestly," Harry proclaimed, though he'd said that a million times since they'd left the beach. Draco had lost count of how many times they'd ridden the waves to the shore. Harry had went on a crusade of finding seashells, which he'd bought a small jar for at the store attached to the café. They had laid out in the sun a bit, though Draco had told Harry that he wouldn't do it for long because his skin burned easily. Harry seemed pretty compliant about it, because soon he was in a game of volleyball with some visiting tourists. Just as Harry was a natural at Quidditch, he was a natural at volleyball, too.

"There's so much food on this menu," Harry proclaimed, eyes squinting at the small print. Draco wondered if he was having trouble seeing it without his glasses. The brunette had put them in one of the bags instead of slipping them back on. He looked very different without them on. His green eyes seemed to take on a life of their own without them. Everything was more visible... Draco noticed that Harry's nose was darn near perfect. The blonde brought his fingers up to his nose, tracing the pointed end of it. He brought them down to say thanks to their waitress, who had brought them their iced lemon waters.

"Haven't you been to a restaurant before?" Draco asked suddenly, curious. Harry frowned as he looked up.

"Um, well I've only been to the restaurants in Hogsmeade, actually. Though you can't really call those restaurants as much as bars. I've never been to a Muggle restaurant before. It's quite different," Harry's eyes roved over the menu again, lips pursing.

"You should try the fish here then. Since it's not tinged with magic, it tastes different... It's not a bad different," Draco added at Harry's facial expression.

"So you've been to Muggle restaurants before? I thought, with your family's background, that you wouldn't have been?" Harry blinked at him, looking much like an owl.

"Mother... used to take me out. She never minded letting me do Muggle things. Unless we were in Father's presence," Draco admitted, fingering a frayed edge of his menu. He didn't know why he was admitting this to the brunette, but Harry's green eyes were following him as he spoke.

"I suppose it wasn't easy growing up with your Dad being how he was, was it?" Harry asked softly, and Draco looked him in the eyes. They held gazes for a moment, Draco searching Harry's for something that would tell him not to trust the Gryffindor... but he found nothing.

"No, it wasn't easy."

"I thought you were spoiled," Harry laughed at himself.

"I was, in a way. I had everything I ever wanted and was lead to believe I was the best thing since the discovery of magic," Draco looked thoughtful, "I thought you were spoiled, too."

"_Me?_ Spoiled?" Harry asked, placing a hand on his chest for emphasis. "The Dursleys' were anything but doting." He seemed to look troubled at this, Draco observed, as if it were his own fault they weren't doting.

"Who were they to you?"

"My mother's sister, Petunia, my aunt... she was the only family I had left after my parents were killed. Dumbledore sent me to live with them because of the protection it brought for me. Petunia wasn't magical. She hated magic folk because of her jealousy. Her husband, Vernon, well he hated magic just as much."

Draco pondered this. To live in a house as a wizard, where people hated magic...

"Did they hurt you?" Draco asked, wondering. Harry frowned again.

"Sometimes," Harry's eyes looked distant, "Mostly it was just using me for their chores... I slept in a cupboard under some stairs until my first year at Hogwarts. The letter was literally addressed to the cupboard under the stairs. Vernon wouldn't let me read it. Thousands of letters were sent to me, but I didn't get to read _any_ of them. He moved us away in hopes the letter would never find me. Luckily, Hagrid found me."

_ So that's why Harry cares so much about that great oaf_, Draco remembered seeing him in Diagon Alley when he first saw Harry.

"I hated going back. I wanted to live at Hogwarts," Harry admitted, looking a bit sheepish at his confession.

"I did, too," Draco divulged and Harry looked surprised. Before he got to ask though, their waitress interrupted them.

"Did you figure out whacha want ta order?" She asked, pen poised at her notepad.

After they ordered, Draco feeling proud that Harry chose the fish like he recommended, they started chattering about small, unimportant things, like the temperature of the water at the beach, how different iced lemon water tasted here, and the subtleties of the magic. Soon, their food was ready and they dug in, both hungrier than they thought they were.

"Wow, Malfoy, you're right... this fish is _excellent,_" Harry all but moaned, closing his eyes as he chewed. Draco was amused, and a little digusted, at how Harry ate. He seemed to be unable to keep his mouth closed, but Draco couldn't blame him. He hadn't really had real parents to teach him differently, and at least he didn't eat like Weasley, who spat his food all over the place. The Slytherin table used to laugh about it all the time, calling him kin to a dog. Draco kept that to himself, though.

When they were done, they left the restaurant and headed to the car. They decided to forego any sight seeing, leaving that for tomorrow. They made their way back to their suite, where Draco announced he was going to shower and then nap.

Harry watched him leave before he sat himself on the couch in the living room of the suite. The TV was large and he fumbled with the remote before he finally was able to flick it on. As he turned it through channels, he noticed the quality was a lot better than most British channels. He ended up watching a show called 'Friends', which was actually quite funny once he figured out who was who and what was going on.

Draco stared at the ceiling of the bedroom, going over the conversation at the restaurant. It was interesting how skewed his perceptions of Harry Potter actually were. Harry was actually very reserved and looked uncomfortable when he talked about himself. He didn't stop Draco from talking about his family and seemed to accept what Draco told him as truth. But the blonde sighed, regardless. He flipped himself over onto his side, trying to get more comfortable. No matter how nice Harry was alone, he wouldn't treat Draco the same when he was finally in his friends' presence. And Draco didn't want to fool himself into believing he had another ally, not just batty old Dumbledore muttering about lemon flavored sweets. He knew how one could get hurt from trusting another easily. He had been foolish when he was younger.

_It doesn't matter anyways. It's not like I _need_ friends. Is that what I want Harry to be? My friend? We were always better as enemies... but that was my father's doings. Merlin, I'm confused. _

The Slytherin remembered his previous "friends". Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Zabini... They had all turned on him as quickly as the word was out. Or, at least, that's what he'd been told. He hadn't tried to owl them or see them because he was too afraid of being turned in to the Dark Lord. And he _knew_ that Voldemort wouldn't just simply _kill_ him. He'd draw out a long, unimaginable torture... and then, when Draco was begging to be killed, he would probably let the Death Eater's have their fun. Would his father join in? Was his father being punished for him going rogue? He surely hoped his mother wasn't enduring punishment because of him... Dumbledore had said that Snape was keeping an eye on her. Could he believe that?

Growling in frustration, Draco wiped at his eyes. He didn't want to cry with Harry Potter in the other room.

_Why am I such a failure?_

Draco cried silently until the room was completely dark. He didn't rouse when Harry said his name softly, though he could smell that dinner was there. He didn't get up when Harry sighed and left the room. He didn't let Harry know he was still awake when the Gryffindor finally fell into the bed beside his, reading. He pretended to sleep as Harry muttered things under his breath, as Harry turned out the light, and as Harry whispered him a good night, though he thought the Slytherin to be asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Oh, Draco, darling... how my heart feels for you...

I hoped you like this installment!

This chapter is dedicated to: Death'sAngel18, CannoraChan, and Yurie-chan for their lovely reviews. Thanks so much! :D


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